


The Man Who Sold the World

by loveywife



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Evil, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes Returns, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Evil Bucky Barnes, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Angst, Steve Feels, Steve Has Issues, Steve Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 23:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3506978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveywife/pseuds/loveywife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has some explaining to do, and Steve Rogers will listen whether he likes it or not.</p><p>Formally dedicated to the memory of David Robert Jones (Bowie) and lovingly written in honor of his legacy- 1/11/16 Long Live the Starman <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Golden Years

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the song The Man Who Sold the World by David Bowie (yes, while I too enjoy the Nirvana cover, it is not actually their song!) 
> 
> Both versions are great, I suggest listening to them on loop while reading. Thanks guys! 
> 
> Chapter titles might be titles of other David songs??

_We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when_  
_Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend_  
_Which came as some surprise I spoke into his eyes_  
_I thought you died alone, a long long time ago_

_**************************************************************_

 

                             When Steve awoke, his head was swooning. It felt like gravity was still sucking the air from his lungs, his body had not yet lost the sensation of flying as he plummeted off of a burning helicarrier. He could still feel cold wind rushing tangles through his hair as he fell farther down, and his body was still braced for impact against the freezing blue water that he landed into. The whirl of churching waves still swam around in his brain, waterlogged ears ringing as he adjusted to his new surroundings.  It was dark, almost an inky pitch and for a moment he thought he was still beneath the surging current of the Potomac, being dragged under to the depths below. His lungs were heaving in breath after breath, though, so he was certain he was no longer half-lucidly drowning. Trickles of liquid, be it blood or water, he did not know, ran down his forehead, dripping off the tip of his nose into his lap. He shook his head, a steady thrumming of an ache jolting him into further consciousness. He forced his eyes open all the way, blinking as he tried to surmise where he was. He couldn’t make out a lot in the room, realizing as he tried to stand that he was chained to a steel chair. He struggled against his bonds before coming to the conclusion that whoever had trapped him was clearly very good at their job. The binding was effective and tight, even using most of the remaining strength in his muscles was useless against the iron links. Steve went slack, trying to figure a way out of this. Suddenly, he heard the scraping sound of a match being struck, and a small orange flame bloomed on his left. He started, glimpsing a figure out of the corner of his eye. The person had been so stealthily quiet that he had not even realized he wasn’t alone in the dank cellar room. The air was chill and he shivered, feeling eerie in this strange place. The last he recalled, SHIELD had been crumbling around him as the last helicarrier fell to pieces because he refused to fight his best friend. His best-BUCKY.

                             He jerked his head to the side in the chair, pain ripping through the stiff muscles in his neck. Bucky was indeed leaning back against the wall, having used the match to light a strange white candle, the pale wax glowing like moonlight in the shadows beneath the flickering yellow bulb at the wick. Smoke curled around him as he dripped melted wax onto the concrete flooring, sticking the candle in place. He moved so silently it was hard for Steve to make out his motions in the dim lighting. Then the man moved closer to the Captain, invading his personal space as he leaned in to inspect his face with a quizzical gaze. He narrowed his eyes, catching Steve’s chin in a possessive grip, his gloved hand warm against the skin. He trailed his metal fingers less than lightly over scrapes and scabs at the Captain’s brow and forehead, looking almost smug for being the one who put them there, though when Steve blinked again he knew that was a foolish conception.

                             “Bucky?” Steve asked in disbelief, the word slurred by the pinching grasp on his mandible.

                             The man merely nodded and let out a gruff grunt of affirmation. He released his jaw, stalking away, his back towards the Captain. Steve saw him tense as he barked out, “Maybe I was once. But not anymore. That isn’t me. Not now…maybe not even ever.”

                             “What are we doing here? Why am I even alive?” He responded, cautious of the assassin. Bucky scowled and shot him a heated glare, betrayal behind his gaze.

                             “If I wanted you dead I wouldn’t have pulled your sorry ass from the river.” He grumbled, shooting daggers with his broken blue gaze. “You can…trust me. I could kill you if I wanted to, but I don’t. I won’t, Steve. I thought we were friends.” Rogers’ eyes flashed with something pure as he heard his name on the other man’s tongue. It seemed so foreign to Bucky, and yet it was so damn comforting after seventy years. _We are friends._ He thought.

                             Steve, despite this statement, knew he still had to be wary of the soldier in front of him. “Why not?”  He asked dubiously. “Isn’t that what they sent you here to do?”

                             Bucky instantly filled with resentment for his handlers, hate twisting his features into a gruesome snarl as he screamed. “They sent the Winter Soldier to do that! Not. Me. I can make my own choices.” He spat viciously, anger clouding over his eyes, turning him into a man Steve had never known. “They didn’t order _me_ to do that!”

                             Steve nodded quickly. “Hey, I believe you. It’s okay, Buck.” He wanted to reach out but his hands were enchained. He couldn’t believe that he was being given this opportunity to reunite with his best friend. He could still hear Bucky’s screams as he fell from the train, and he still regretted not jumping off right behind him, watching in horror as the snowcapped peaks of the Swiss Alps sped further and further away along the jarring train track. Bucky was supposed to be dead, and hell… So was he. But thing had changed and now he could fix it, make it right between them again.

                             The Asset suddenly lifted his head, eyes piercing into Steve’s, glowing as bright as the candle. His gaze scrawled across his friend’s face, searching for something deep within. “Why didn’t you kill me? You had a chance to, and you could have saved everyone. Why didn’t the virtuous and mighty Captain America take the chance for the ‘greater good’?” Bucky pried, his tone mocking in the last line. Steve frowned; he didn’t understand where any of this was coming from. He had never seen this side of Bucky before. Was this something they had done to him at HYDRA? Had they warped his mind to turn him into this jealous, cocky weapon with a bluntly satirical tone and a heart of stone?

                             “What do you mean? I wouldn’t…’till the end of the line, Bucky. I’m on your side. I’m always gonna be on your side.” He said softly, hurt lacing his tone as he took in how his friend perceived him now. What had they done to him?

                             Bucky barked out a short laugh. “Yea sure, the end of the line. That line ended a long time ago, buddy. It was so easy for you, wasn’t it? Get snatched up with your precious heart of gold, turned into a gleaming, star-spangled warrior for the film reels, come out and do something else dangerous to become famously admired? No one else saw that you were a bratty, stubborn punk who got into fist fights in rough and tumble alleyways, knuckles bruised and skin raw. I guess you forgot to mention on your registry forms that the only reason you were still kicking was because your dumb friend James Barnes was always there to get you outta a scrape, because he was _good_ _enough_ to care about _you_. What did I get for that? I got shipped out and captured by demons that filled my blood with poison and forced their words down my throat until they could drag out my screams.” He was seething, venomous words dripping from his bloody lip, his jaw set and his fists curled into balls. Steve could hear the metal in one arm straining from the force of his grip.

                             “Bucky, no that’s not-“ Steve cut in desperately, trying to make him understand this was not how it was, not how it had been. Steve had always been grateful for Bucky. He had always cared about him. Maybe he had even loved him once, but he didn’t know who the man standing in front of him was now.

Bucky whipped around and smacked his hand across Steve’s face. “Shut up!” He growled, teeth clenched.  He stepped closer, looming dangerously over the man in the chair, anger radiating off him in waves.  His chest heaving, hair plastered wetly to his forehead, he brushed a deceivingly gentle finger across Rogers’ cheek. “D’ya wanna know why they did that, Stevie?” He inquired softly. His voice grew louder as his fury resurfaced. “Do you wanna know what they told me to make me scream? The truth! They told me the damn truth, something you never had the decency to do!”

                             “They told me all about how you’d befriended me when you were small and weak, when you needed someone to protect you. How you needed a shoulder to cry on when you lost your mother,  so you kept me around. They told me evil is often attracted to goodness because it wants what it can’t have.  Maybe you really did want to rescue me when I was captured, because you felt guilty for using me all those years. More likely you weren’t happy with being the US Army’s poster child, you had to be a real war hero too and I gave you the chance to gain more praise. You always were looking for someone’s attention, Stevie… But it was never mine. And I was sick of living in your shadow. ‘Let’s hear it for Captain America!’ That was just too good. You never even questioned how hurt I was that you didn’t need me anymore now that you’d stolen the spotlight.” He concluded, bitterness apparent in his tone. He held so much distain for this large man in a blue and red spandex suit, and yet… it was breaking the Captain down. It hurt to even think that his best friend considered him this way, maybe always had… even before HYDRA had stepped in to warp his path. He had to show him he truly cared, make him understand.

                             “Bucky, please! Listen to me!”

                             Bucky laughed. Steve was still trying to lie to him. He wasn’t having any of it. “No. I’m done taking orders from you, Captain. Now it is your turn to finally hear me!” He unsheathed his gun, and Steve’s heart rate quickened until Bucky flipped it around to the base and drove the butt of the weapon into Steve’s skull.

 

 


	2. Space Oddity

 

 _Oh no, not me_  
 _I never lost control_  
 _You're face to face_  
 _With The Man Who Sold The World_  
  
_I laughed and shook his hand, and made my way back home_  
 _I searched for form and land, for years and years I roamed_  
**********************************************************

When Steve finally came to again, Bucky was slouched against the wall. His knuckles were bruised purple and split on one hand. It looked like he’d  gotten infuriated and punched the wall very hard.  Steve couldn’t help but be impressed at the fracturing dent in the concrete shell over the stone walls of the cellar. Bucky had to be immensely strong now that HYDRA had tried to turn him into a genetically modified soldier as well.  “You’re awake.” He observed quietly, staring up at Steve.

                             “What I am doing here?” Steve asked softly, his head throbbing where Bucky had hit him with weaponry. “Why did you bring me here Bucky?” He knew that his former friend was upset with him, and that he could have killed him already but didn’t take the chance. Steve took this as a sign that Bucky had an ulterior motive that made him go against his handlers’ orders. Perhaps he still cared about Steve too much to kill him. Maybe he was looking for reconciliation between them too. Steve could only hope this was the reason he was still chained to his seat. Why was he chained up anyhow? Did Bucky truly think he would try and escape? Turn him in or desert him forever? That wasn’t what end of the line meant. That vow was a promise that they would always stand by each other, and Steve would always intend on keeping it.

                             “Told you.” Bucky stated simply, as though Steve was an idiot and speaking any slower would exasperate him. “It’s your turn to listen to me now. It my turn to tell the story, to rule the show. It’s not ‘The captain America hour!’ anymore, it’s just the two of us, Steve.”

                             “You thought I was dead all these years, didn’t you? Did you even mourn me once? Or were you happy I was gone and you and precious Peggy could get married? Tough luck you got put on ice for so long then, huh?  You know what I was doing all that time? I was being tortured and turned into a monstrous machine.  They broke me down and rebuilt the rubble into something dangerous. A weapon that they could use in the War, at first. All those battles were my training. Then they just wanted to use me to gain more power. That’s all I ever was to them, to you. A means to better yourself. And still, being with them was preferable to being with you because at least they were honest about their intentions. They ripped me apart, Steve!”

                             His voice cracked, and his words shredded across Steve’s skin. He had never known what kind of pain Bucky had been in. “Bucky, I’m sorry. If I had known, if I had only ever known…” He trailed off, something in the look of the other man’s eyes telling him this wasn’t appreciated,, and that he wanted Steve to know his pain, not feel regret that there was never anything he could have done.

                             “Stop it!” Bucky commanded, his words sharp like a corporal’s. Steve merely stared at this assertive man, stunned. He was harsh and unfeeling, not friendly and charismatic like the Bucky Barnes he had one known, had once considered his friend. “I don’t want your pity. That isn’t why I brought you here. You sicken me, Captain America. You stand for everything that was ever wrong in my life. No one really ever wanted me around, except for you. But you were only using me, weren’t you? That’s all I ever was to you…a tool. I always wanted what you had, Steven. Your mother never had a second in her life to spare for you, and yet she gave you every minute she had. She even made time for me, and you didn’t value her enough. When she was gone, people still looked out for you. They still cared. Who would ever care for James Barnes? No one, that’s who.  Then you got turned into this meaty god-like hero and everyone adored you. That wasn’t enough for you though… You had to go on and become something better. You had to transcend the common man and be divine, the hero of everyone’s hearts. Well, now I’m finally the hero…and I’m gonna do what’s best for the world whether they like it or not.” Bucky finished ominously, staring at Steve with dark, half-hood eyes from beneath lids slit with a narrowing gaze. “And this time, Rogers, no one’s gonna stop me. Nobody’s gonna dare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is appreciated!


	3. Fame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I finally had some time, and I watched the Man Who Fell to Earth yesterday, so I remembered this fic and thought I should update. I'm thinking there's only one or two more chapters before this thing is done with. AH! That's so little time together. Anyways, I hope this wa sworth the wait. 
> 
> NOTE: There is some graphic violence in this one...just aheads up

_I gazed a gazely stare at all the millions here_  
_We must have died alone, a long long time ago_

*******************************************************

 

                             Steve was stunned, and he felt a cold chill of fear creep up his spine. He arched his back, attempting to see if he could break free from his chains. Maybe, just maybe, if he could… He could show Bucky that this wasn’t his intent; that he never wanted to hurt his friend. That Bucky _was_ his friend… That he had cared about him. He had to, not just because it was true, but because Steve was starting to see just how unstable the man before him was. He was infuriated, skilled, lethal… But Barnes was most dangerous because he was unpredictable. Once, Steve used to be able to know everything that was going on in Bucky’s head, he could tell the man’s next move before Barnes had even thought about it. Now, there was none of that. Bucky’s cold, grey eyes were staring into his as though searching for something… A reason to stop all this and let him go. Steve needed to convince him. He would listen, he try and hear Bucky, and talk to him. If he could just make him see…

                             Bucky suddenly grabbed the arms of the steel chair he was in, Steve’s chains clinking together like the _plink_ of a water drop falling into their sink from the leaky pipes in the ‘30s. Bucky had always complained they were being cheated out of the money they paid to live there, and Steve never could figure out how to fix it while the other was away at work, down at the docks. When he’d been drafted, Steve used to listen to that faucet drip and drip and drip as though it were a tally of every minute Bucky had been gone; keeping score of all the seconds he should had been at his rightful place by Steve’s side. At night, the cold wind that blew like a howling ghost through the cracks in the ceiling were a steady, gloating moan to remind him that his friend might not come home, and the faucet would go on leaking forever. He never did get to fix the pipe… He’d gone into the ice and things like that just hadn’t seemed as important anymore. When he’d woken up, the old building had been condemned, and for all Steve knew, the pipe was still letting what had become the lifeblood of their friendship slip away, dribble by dribble. Right now, he would stop up that pesky hole, and end the hemorrhage.

                             “Bucky.” Steve muttered quietly, meeting the man’s leering, crazed gaze. The Soldier held up his metal hand for silence, one electrified finger pressing roughly to Steve’s pink lips, distorting their full shape.

                             “Sh sh sh sh shhhh…” He hushed him, his eyes beginning to gleam, pupils so wide in the flickering light that they almost seemed to be completely black. Like a ghost, like a martyr, like a demon. “You aren’t finished listening yet.” He hummed, moving to sit down upon one of Steve’s thighs, the muscles singing in pain. He was still sore, and Bucky knew it.

                              “Always so quick to take your turn, Stevie.” The man hummed, one hand moving to flick another match as he brought a short cigarette to his lips. He sucked in, his cheeks hollowing out as the bright flare smoked the end of it, an orange ember glowing wildly like the anger in his heart. He blew out the first breath of smoke filled fury quietly, the tendrils reaching out around Steve’s head, reeling him in. “But then again, I guess everything was always about you, wasn’t it? I never got to be me, Rogers. I was always Bucky, your ‘tag along’ pal. Everything about you, our friendship, your glory… Had to define me. It was always _‘Thank god you were there Bucky, to save Steve’s stupid ass… Thank god you’re here to be my son’s only friend, James. Oh, Jamie, you’re home… Tell us that story about Steve again! Thank god you have someone like Steve as a good influence, son. He may get into trouble, but he has a good heart. Thank god you were there to help Steve out with rent, to take care of him when he was sick. Thank god you didn’t get caught stealing, Buck, getting medicine for Steve and risking yourself.’_ People always came up to me and it was, _‘Hey Barnes, how’s Rogers doin’?’_ They never asked about _me_. They never cared about me, them folks on the street, neighbors, bosses, friends, your mother, _hell_ , my ma and my dad, my siblings, you… Only Steve Rogers and his winning smile. _What about ME, huh? How was **I**? Why didn’t nobody EVER notice I never smiled? What about MY golden heart? _ I stayed beside you even though I knew it meant living in your shadow! Sometimes, I was stupid… I even let myself believe you actually _wanted_ me. Not anymore. I look out for myself now… HYDRA showed me the truth and I can’t go back from that. It’s about me now.” He said, his fists straining, causing red rings around Steve’s forearms. He looked down, seeming to realize he was hurting the man, and loosened his grip. He didn’t move away. 

                             “When they took me… When I fell off that train and right out of your heart, your line of vision, your view of importance… When you forgot me so they stepped in, you know what they did? They broke me down. Sure, I fought them at first… But then they started talking to me, y’know… Just talkin’ about my life before all this. We’d have a chat while they worked out my arm, making sure the pieces stayed together. I’d flex this and that and they’d use their drill and we’d talk about how being Steve Roger’s best friend had made me feel. My answers weren’t good, Stevie. They said you hadn’t treated me right… And it was true. You took me for granted, always thinking I’d be there to get you outta trouble. And I wasn’t appreciated enough. They said I had a right to be jealous of you, always the world’s hero, trembling with the weight of ‘justice and mercy’ on your shoulders. You were picked for the good they saw in your heart, Rogers…” Bucky told him, taking another long drag of his cigarette and spitting out the fumes. “I was picked for the bad. The malice, the wanting, the sinful desire for attention, _your_ attention, the jealousy, the spite, the meanness, the sadness, the pain… It turned me black and blue inside, and they wanted to shove their fingers into the open sores. But you know, the pain felt good; it woke me up to the truth… Made me feel more alive than I ever had felt standing by your side.”

                             Steve recoiled from Bucky, pain slicing through him at those words. He shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. This was Bucky, his Bucky… And the man stood there dripping venom like some type of murderous snake one stumbles upon in a dark and gloomy jungle. He was staring at him with the eyes of a hateful stranger, as though those years of friendship meant nothing to him, as though Steve was nothing to him. Was this all HYDRA’s doing… Or had Bucky always felt this way? Why hadn’t he noticed that? Why didn’t Bucky see how much he’d loved him, wanted him, needed him… How much he still did? Or thought he had; Steve did not know who this angry, insane man barking insults at him was anymore. He was a snake who looked upon Steve as nothing more than prey that happened to have wandered too close to his den. Steve felt the cold water trailing down his spine like the finger of Death, killing their bond, and it was like the icy forest rain, pouring down upon the hunter, and the hunted… Locked in a murderous embrace. There was no convincing him. Bucky was gone, and in his place was a monster.

                             “You liked what they did to you?”

                             “I PREFERED it!” Bucky snarled, one hand moving to smack across Steve’s cheek sharply, the crack sounding throughout the cellar. “They told me to kill and I killed, oh, did I _kill_ , Stevie! You don’t know how GOOD it felt to be running like that. I was strong, I was fast, and I was powerful. In and out, a mystery to solve when in the morning there was only a body and what looked like an accident. I was a ghost, a legend, a fallacy. No one could find me, no one could stop me. I was _powerful_! And they assured me that what I was doing was for the world’s good… Taking out people who were too self-centered like you so that the majority didn’t have a rule. They didn’t _get_ a rule anymore. My muscles would burn and my head would spin and suddenly the knife was cutting open a jugular vein and that burst of blood upon my lips tasted better than any kiss from a lover ever could… It was like sweet summer rain!” Bucky cried out, actually laughing joyfully. Steve was horrified. This man was ill, he was so broken and so insane. “The bullet fell from my hand in the most beautiful, straight line and soared into a pumping heart like nothing was even blocking its course, just like I was some grim, fortified Cupid. Isn’t that gorgeous? I love the sound of a heart falling still. I love holding a body in your hands like God, and feeling that feather light beat patter out, just like a little songbird. Tweet tweet…the last exhale is music to me.”

                             “When they wanted to put me on ice, I let them. The cold was nice, refreshing even. It allowed me to finally rest all my worries and just lie still. And I never aged, look at me. I’m gorgeous, aren’t I? Just like all those girls back home used to think… Men too, if I remember correctly. No one ever thought you were worthy of a dance, Steve. But what do looks mean anyways,” Bucky contradicted himself, tone becoming less pleasantly nostalgic and more bitter, menacing. He was turning on himself; he was becoming increasingly unstable and agitated as he spoke. Steve grew worried again, every muscle rigid. “They only get people ahead who are ugly on the inside. Isn’t that right, Captain America? You’re a walking god holding in a living hell! Every muscle in my body moving, my heart pounding and my aim straight, I could be anyone I wanted to be. After so many memory wipes, I didn’t know who I’d been before. I was reinvented into someone different, someone everyone had to respect and admire. We were going to rule the beautiful utopia I was creating with my own sweat and tears, Pierce said. Every heaven requires death, he’d say… Every peace needs to be paid for in blood. And, Steve, that blood was just running down my wrists like a river flowing down a valley. When I took a life, I had the control for once over my goddamn existence! I was a hero to the world, I was doing them a favor, I would finally be thanked for my hard work, and I was lovely. I was worthy. There was no shadow to live in because I cast my own over the whole damn world. No one to say, ‘Don’t shoot…Don’t you know Steve Rogers?’ You were dead! I was free! I was me! I was alive and ready to make my mark!” Bucky crowed, throwing up his hands in amazement and emphasis as he spoke, looking around the room as if expecting to see a cheering crowd.

                             “And then Pierce died.” Bucky growled, glowering at Steve from beneath his long, greasy hair. It hung in tattered ribbons around his face, scraggly and unbrushed. It looked a wreck, just like the man before him. In spite of all his strength, his face was pale and gaunt. His lips were dry and bleeding, his eyes had bags and circles rimming the burning gaze that was lost in those clear, grey eyes. His best friend’s eyes hand been blue like the summer sky, like the sea; these were flat and colorless, just like the morning of a funeral. “You killed him. You took away my chance!” He screamed, spit flying into Steve’s face. Bucky’s breath was hot, and his words were just as heated. He collapsed against the man’s chest, groaning out like he was in pain, pitifully. “You took everything. You always bled me dry. I never got what I wanted.”

                             Despite the terror racing through his nerves, Steve felt a pang of guilt as he watched the man who looked like his best friend moan beside him. “Bucky…” He murmured softly, almost wishing he could change it all.


	4. Blackstar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW an update, finally!!! Enjoy (if you can)
> 
> TW!!!!! Some descriptions of violence and references to death.

_Who knows? Not me_  
_We never lost control_  
_You're face to face_  
_With the Man who Sold the World_

 

*******************************************************

 

Bucky’s head lifted slowly at Steve’s words, eyes huge and hollow. His silver gaze was hungry in the dark, trying to drink up all of Steve’s bruised, pained expression like Bucky was lost in the wilderness and Steve was his map that was about to burn.

 

“Shut up, Stevie.” He begged distantly, one hand moving to grip Steve’s thigh as he stood up and continued to pace the room, moving in slow circles around Roger’s chair. “Story’s not over yet.”

Steve nodded hastily, accepting that he would listen quietly. He had no desire to set Bucky off again now that he seemed to be calming down, his voice listless and childlike. He would not provoke him,

 

Bucky seemed to almost smile approvingly, before clasping his hands repeatedly behind his back as he spoke. “Well, taking down SHIELD was simple, see? It was founded by your little girlfriend in honor of you, which meant I already resented it before they gave me my orders. That’s right, I can see in your eyes that it hurts you to think about her. Everything’s been coming back the longer I’m off the ice; I recall how much she meant to you, your little wifey. All those girls I stuck you with weren’t good enough, _I_ wasn’t even good enough and I was _devoted_ to you. But “Peggy Carter”, savior of the American Army, was _perfect_.” Bucky griped, mockingly sing-songing her name, an evil glint to his gaze.

 

“Too bad she decayed while you were frozen. I bet the destruction of her empire broke her aging heart.” He said, with a laugh. “And Howard’s ghost too, I hope he was torn right out of hell to see it fall. They got what they deserved, trying to get in HYDRA’s way… In my way. She was trying to take you away from me, and like a fool I was still clinging to you like a child to his blanket. Idiotic. I should have let the two of you fester in your false kindness together. Howard was easy to take down. That car was going much too fast to stop for a pedestrian standing in the middle of the road. It was easy to loosen the railing so that a swerving car didn’t stop before the edge of a cliff, much too easy. Everyone thought it was an accident!” He cried gleefully, teeth gleaming like pearls in the darkness. “I’m talented, you’ve got to give me that, Captain. Peggy was always competition, but not for long. That home doesn’t even have real security to protect her, anyone could slip through her window one night. I’ll let her know that everything that has befallen her was a result of my hard work.

I killed Howard, and SHIELD, and even that fling of her’s… Some cute little Italian. I’d love to see Carter’s face when I tell her how that girl could scream.” The Soldier looked down and his eyes fell upon Steve’s look of disgusted shock, and horror. He sighed in an annoyed manner.

 

“Don’t worry, Captain America, she won’t feel her pain for long… Lots of elderly people die in their sleep. So quick… They. Stop. Breathing. Just. Like. _That_.” He said with a snap of his biological fingers, a malicious grin coloring his cheeks. “Then, _finally_ , SHIELD is dead, and soon HYDRA will be too. Whoever will be taking over will never see me coming. Besides, I’ve been taught to comply. They’ll trust me just enough for me to get close. And then, I’ll control HYDRA, and no one will get in my way. I’ll rule the world the way it needs to be ruled, the way it deserves.” Bucky screamed brokenly, slamming his fist against the wall. The whole foundation shook, a cloud of dust stirring up and making Steve’s eyes water. He had to stop this somehow, but there was no talking Barnes out of it. It was too late for reconciliation. It was too late to call for help, too late to warn anyone, and too late to escape. Everything was coming to an end it seemed, and Steve would go down fighting it. With the last of his strength, he stood and rammed himself backwards, smashing the chair against the wall. It was cold enough in the room that it shattered beneath the force of his blows, chains falling at his feet. Bucky gaped at him a moment, stunned, before a knife flicked into his wrist automatically. It settled in his palm so easily that Steve knew this was the moment when he felt most comfortable; with a blade at his fingertips. He snarled at Steve, before charging towards him.

They struggled for a time, the cool metal sliding across Steve’s cheek. Hot, thick blood poured from the wound, staining his lips, suit and even part of the floor when he fell down at the Asset’s feet. He rolled back and stood again before anything could happen, landing blows desperately. Bucky had removed his shield, and without it, he didn’t know how much longer he would be able to fend the man off. It reminded him of his days as a kid, stumbling around and picking fights out of righteousness, out of boredom, out of a cathartic need to punch somebody in the face. This was different, though. There would not be his best friend to come in and save him; Bucky would not call the whole thing off. This was bad, and dangerous and very, very real. He could die. Bucky wouldn’t seem to think twice about it; taking him out was something he had apparently planned upon for many years now.

 

“What are you trying to achieve?” Steve yelled at him, blocking another attack from the arm, and swerving to the left.

 

“I’m going to finally do the world a favor, regardless of what it ever did to me. I’m going to be noble, a hero! All you ever did was lie and take stupid risks no one ever asked you to! You put everyone in danger! I bet you’d have given yourself trying to ‘save’ my poor, wounded soul! No one ever asked you to do all that, and in the end you put everyone in danger. I’m making the right decision, one you never could make.” Bucky said coldly, turning on him.

 

The blows came again and again. Steve couldn’t keep up with the speed of his hands trying to wrap around him and seize his throat. Chest heaving, he fended off Bucky’s advances, the sinking feeling in his stomach deepening as he slowly concluded there would be no way out of this, for him… Or for the rest of the world.

A small sob choked in his throat as he thought back to their friendship. All those days he’d been so happy with Bucky, all the times they’d risked their lives for each other, and all the good they’d done by each other’s sides. Losing him had been the worst thing to happen to him during the War, and when he’d gave his life for those in New York, he’d thought they’d get to be together again. He tried to save him so many times, because Bucky had been worth saving. Steve loved that man, that Bucky Barnes. He didn’t know who this man trying to fight the life out of his hands was, and he never would. There would not be salvation for him. They were the greatest story of friendship of the 20th century to some, and now this is how the story would end, it seemed. It ended in panic, anger, aggression and blood.

Eventually, Steve, exhausted and still half dead from his fall from the helicarrier, collapsed to his knees. Bucky pounced upon him, pinning him down beneath his weight. The slash of silver was a blur before his eyes, his gaze focused on the cruel triumph beaming on Bucky’s face. He breathed out a satisfied, “Finally…” before collapsing back to look at his handiwork. Steve gasped a shaky breath, his whole world flashing red, and white sparks exploding before his eyes with every intake of air. Words rattled in his throat as he attempted to speak, and then he vaguely heard Bucky’s voice cry out his name, catching him in his hands like a baby bird that had fallen so far from its mother’s nest.


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance to waiod_64 for leading them on...
> 
> (I'm sorry the last two updates haven't had any indentation...my computer won't post it with that.) OMG GUYS!!!! THIS IS IT!!!! THIS IS THE END OF THE WHOLE STORY!!!! I'm so so grateful for everyone's kudos, kind comments and just for reading this dang thing. I hope you guys can get through this last half, I was crying and listening to StarMan as I wrote it. Feedback is always appreciated. I'd love to know what you guys thought of the end! Again, thank you so so much for everything. I'll see you guys...'In the Stars.' :')

_Something happened on the day he died_

_Spirit rose a metre and stepped aside_

_Somebody else took his place and bravely cried_

_I’m a blackstar, I’m a blackstar_

                                                                                                                 **************************************************************

The Soldier shifted his weight so that he was the one laying on the ground, with Steve’s head cradled in his lap. His shoulders were hunched over the larger man, quaking violently as his eyes tore across Rogers’ pallid face. He knew his own skill; there would be no coming back from this. His eyes burned and he rubbed at them in confusion before he realized why, the salty water staining his fingers. His heaving chest seemed to crumple in on itself as he fell forward, his face crushed against Steve’s abdomen, avoiding the damp area so dark his suit looked black. He murmured words quietly, gripping the Captain tightly, not really sure of what he was saying. He thought it was some sort of confession. His whole body was cold, and he couldn’t really feel any of his limbs as he thought about how Steve had been good to him his whole life, and all the times he’d caught his eye and felt something more flutter between them like fireworks on the Fourth of July. When he lifted his red face, the dark spot had spread across Steve’s entire stomach, his quivering frame lifting upwards so much it seemed like he was trying to raise into the sky and fly. The Asset could taste iron upon his lips, his tongue darting out to send it to the blackened furnace burning within his gut. His mouth pressed desperately to Steve’s forehead, hands roaming all over the man’s body, trying to keep Steve there. His whispered apologies left a crimson smear on the Captain’s forehead, which was pounding with pain. The atmosphere around him was becoming fuzzier; Bucky’s anguished faced fading into a pale glow, like the sun reflecting off of winter snow in Brooklyn. His mother’s voice came to him, crooning his name like a nightingale as the thumping beneath Bucky’s fingers got quieter and quieter until his shaking stopped, and silence reigned supreme around them. The butt of his cigarette finally extinguished itself, leaving nothing but a pile of ash in its wake.

 

“Don-don’t worry, Stevie.” He sniffed, shaking his head violently over and over. Steve had died here, and no one would ever even find his body. “It’s all gonna be fine now. ‘Captain America Falls Off the Face of the Earth… Again!’ Your name’s gonna be in all the papers, but you won’t need to worry about that. You’re going home… All the way back up to the stars in the sky, and you’re gonna burn just as bright as they do.” He assured no one, the tune to “Star Spangled Man” ringing hollowly in his brain. Steven Grant Rogers had been golden in his approval of everyone, and his desire to always do the right thing at the expense of himself. Bucky had never realized that before, or maybe he just hadn’t remembered it for a long time. Everything seemed to be coming back to him now, now that it was all over. He’d aimed too high for glory, and his waxen wings had melted before he’d even passed the clouds. All he’d ever needed was the friendship of a little boy from Brooklyn, and he would never have it again. Bucky’s wail of pain shredded his throat until he could not even whimper anymore, the scream echoing off of the walls he’d thrown his fists against for a long time, leaving only James Buchanan Barnes, at last returned from the War, and the smoldering blade in his hands.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> so....was that painful enough for ya? Please Comment! I love feedback!


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